Samstag, 12. Oktober 2013

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I’m just gonna come out and say it: I love insecure women.
Whenever a girl I’m talking to brags about how she’s “confident” and “strong,” I can feel my dick deflating like a punctured tire.
I’d still bang her, of course; a repellent personality doesn’t negate
the fact that she has a slammin’ body. But a crucial part of the
attraction is lost. I’d be less offended if she ripped a fart in my
face.
The idea that women should have self-esteem or need it,
beyond a low baseline to ensure they don’t commit suicide or become
psycho stalkers, is one of the most disastrous social engineering
experiments of the modern era. A woman with excessive confidence is like
a man with a vagina. It’s an attribute that is at best superfluous and
at worst prevents women from fulfilling their natural biological and
social functions.

In order for America to right itself, there needs to be a massive and concerted war on female self-esteem.

From the moment they’re old enough to speak, girls in America are
bombarded with propaganda that artificially boosts their self-esteem.
They’re told that they’re shpecial and you-nique because
they have an extra X chromosome. They’re told that they’re smart, that
they can do anything, that they deserve respect merely for existing.
They’re encouraged to derive self-worth not from their inherent feminine
nature but from their college degree, their job or the other illusory
trappings of achievement in a man’s world.

Combine this with the white-knighting
tendencies of fathers and the sexual attention that attractive girls
already get from puberty forward and you have a complete social meltdown
in the making.

Here are my reasons why girls should be discouraged from being confident.

1. Most girls have done nothing to deserve self-esteem.

In the world of men, respect—and by extension self-esteem—is based on
actually achieving something of worth or having some kind of skill or
talent. Are you a bodybuilder or jacked? Men and women will respect you because the effort to mold your body like that requires an enormous amount
of work and dedication. Being a talented musician, an experienced world
traveler, a high-earning tradesman; these and more engender respect
from your fellow man and self-esteem along with it. No one respects a
fat video game-playing kid who lives in his parents’ basement, and why should they?

There’s absolutely no skill or work involved in pissing away your life eating Doritos and jacking off into a tube sock.

Women claim they want equal rights as men, but they don’t want equal responsibilities.
As such, they demand respect not based on their merit as people, but
for merely continuing to breathe. Most girls’ so-called achievements,
the ones they take pride in, are complete jokes. Wow, you have a
master’s degree in puppetry? In a world where everyone and their mother has a college degree—and
where college curriculums have been dumbed down to the point of
inanity—being able to squeak through an institution of higher learning
is no great achievement.

If anything, having a college degree is a strike against
a girl—unless it’s in something real like a STEM discipline—as it shows
that she’s a conformist who thinks that credentials are a substitute
for knowledge and experience.

The same goes for having a job. The vast majority of girls work
useless fluff jobs: government bureaucrats, human resources and various
other makework positions that exist to give them the illusion of
independence. The jobs that keep the country running—tradesmen, miners,
farmers, policemen, the military—are still overwhelmingly dominated by men.
If every girl was fired from her job tomorrow, elementary schools would
have to shut down for a couple days, but otherwise life would go on as
usual.

If every man lost his job tomorrow, the country would collapse.

Feminists can screech as loud as they want, but they will never change this fundamental reality; men accord respect based on merit,
and if girls want to play in our world, they’ll have to obey our rules.
Otherwise, they know where the kitchen is. I have more respect for the
starving artist couple busking down the street from my house than I do
for all the career-driven, Strong, Independent Women™ in the world.
Being able to sing and play guitar well is no small achievement, and the
buskers are actually providing a useful service to the world.

2. Insecurity is integral to femininity.

I was thinking about a couple of my past relationships when I had
this epiphany; the girls I’ve loved the most were the ones who were the
most insecure, the most emotionally vulnerable. When I first went on a
date with the only girl I would have ever married, her hands were
trembling in nervousness. She later admitted that she was openly
intimidated by me and the idea that I found her attractive. She had been
an ugly duckling in high school, forty pounds overweight and used to
being ignored and mocked; I had met her shortly after she’d lost the
weight, when she still viewed the world through a fat girl’s eyes.
Insecurity is the natural state of woman. How could it be anything
else? Given their lack of physical strength, a woman on her own should
be frightened as hell without men to protect her. If society were to collapse, all the Strong, Independent Women™ who read Jezebel and xoJane would last about five minutes before they either found a man to cling onto or got raped and killed. In the bellum omnium contra omnes that is mankind’s default existence, a woman who is alone is a woman who is already dead.
One of the most commonly repeated tropes of feminists and manboobs goes something like this:

“You should be happy that women
nowadays are independent, because it means that they’re with you because
they WANT to be with you, not because they’re dependent on you.”

This is a fundamental violation of the relationship between men and women. Part of our identity as men based in women needing us, if not necessarily in a material sense, then in an emotional
one, though material and emotional vulnerability often go hand in hand.
That female insecurity is a crucial ingredient for unlocking our inner
masculine instincts. If a girl needs me, feels that her life
would end if she were to lose me, I’m doubly inspired to be there for
her, to shield her from the cruelty of the world. Frankly, it’s pretty
hot. If she just wants me, could take me or leave me, my gut response is
one of apathy. “Yeah, whatever babe.”

Confidence doesn’t give men erections; vulnerability does.

In order to love someone else, you need to be emotionally vulnerable,
more so women than men (as girls are attracted to confident men). You
need to be willing to open yourself up, to give yourself over to their
judgment, to risk being hurt and rejected. Without this emotional
openness, any relationship you have will never go beyond the infatuation
stage. But girls today are told to erect gigantic walls around their
hearts, cutting them off from an crucial part of their humanity. The
emotional dissonance from this feminist social engineering is why antidepressant usage and mental illness
are skyrocketing among young women. Ordinarily a depressed or insecure
girl would seek solace in the loving embrace of a man, but daily hits
from her good friend Saint Xanax short-circuit her feminine instincts.
In squelching her inborn insecurity with you-go-grrlisms and drugs,
the modern woman has become an emotional cripple. Like a fat slob eating
Big Macs instead of a juicy steak from the supermarket, she substitutes
having a dominant and confident man in her life with lotsa cocka and
dating where she considers herself an “equal.” She views men as a life
support system for a penis, an accoutrement, no different than her
Manolo Blahniks or snazzy new iPhone. When she gets bored of her
boy-toy, she tosses him in the trash and moves on to a newer, shinier
model, and if she can get cash and prizes for trading in her old clunker, that’s just the icing on the cake.

Essentially, “confident” women are incapable of viewing men as human beings.

When manboobs and feminists say you should be happy that women today
are “independent,” this is what they’re arguing for; a world in which
romantic relationships are impossible. Where men are nothing more than
fashion items to help women show how cool or sophisticated they are.
Sorry, but homie don’t play that game. If I’m not the center of a girl’s
world, I’m not going to be in her world period.
I can already see the Jizzabellers angrily pounding away at their Macbooks: “You just can’t handle a Strong, Independent Woman™!” We men can handle you just fine; the problem is that we don’t want
to. So-called confident women are as threatening as a pile of dog
turds. Sure, you can scrape them off your boots when you get home, but
it’s better to not step in dog shit to begin with.

3. Women don’t want to have high self-esteem.

This is the kicker; in their bones, girls know that their toxic, feminist you-go-grrl ideology is a lie. Why do you think the average urban slut machine is downing enough Prozac to poison the water supply?
Pharmacological assistance is the only way she can make it through her
day without slitting her wrists, or alternately realizing that her life
is a complete lie. Every day, women show through their actions that
they despise their strong, independent lives.

They want nothing more than for a man to
throw them over his knee, shatter the Berlin Wall around their hearts,
and expose the lovestruck, bashful little girl within.

Game, at least as it was conceived by the seduction community, was
all about this. All the hysterical nitwits blubbering about how
“negging” and the like was designed to hurt girls’ self-esteem were precisely right, but that’s the thing; women are crying out for a man who will wound their self-esteem.
“Confident” women are still women, and they still lust after men who
dominate them, even if they can’t admit it to themselves. Because their
self-esteem has been artificially boosted by society, today’s girls need
extra-concentrated doses of dominance—i.e. game—in order to feel
womanly, like a junkie chasing the dragon.
Recently, Noisey wrote about the explosion of retro sixties-style girl groups and solo singers
in the indie rock scene, such as the Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls and
Lana Del Rey. Feminism supposedly freed women to do whatever they
wanted, yet indie girl musicians today—the kinds who started as garage
bands and write/produce all their own songs—just want to wear their hair
in beehives and pretend that they’re still sixteen years old.Noisey and other mainstream writers try to spin this depressing reality by emphasizing that at least the girls are choosing to sing about boys. It’s not unlike how homeless winos keep “choosing” to pickle their livers with Wild Irish Rose. “I CAN QUIT ANYTIME I WANT TO!!!!!11″ Every song Best Coast has ever come up with is about boyfriends and smoking pot at the beach. Vivian Girls has a song about waiting for your boyfriend to call, a cliche that was old and moldy before Dennis Wilson bit the dust. Hell, Vivian Girls’ bassist Katy Goodman did an entire album with her side group La Sera that was about a breakup.

Real life fails the Bechdel test.

Feminists can claim that women don’t need men, but their actions put the lie to that; they need us
far more than we need them. Girls will all but die without masculine
attention. Hell, I’m even starting to think that the feminist agita
about “rape culture” is part of this as well. Pushing lies like the
claim that one in three women will be raped during her lifetime and
their constantly expanding the definition of rape
are ways for feminists to indulge their desire for vulnerability in a
way that doesn’t conflict with their view of themselves as “strong” and
“empowered.”
At the end of the day, there are no Strong, Independent Women™. There
are only shrews pleading for a taming. All the posturing, the
pill-popping, the whining and demands for “equality”; they’re a cry for
help. Girls don’t want the six-figure cubicle job, the shiny Brooklyn
2BR, the master’s degree, the sexual liberation, none of it. They want
to be collectively led back to the kitchen, told to make a nice big tuna sandwich with extra mayo and lettuce, then swatted on the ass as we walk out the door.
I say we give them what they want.